From a Ristar to a Lady
- Chapter 12 -[]
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Haynes Palatial Manor
Innerman City, Inman
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area,
22nd February, 3061
2000 hrs (1600 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)
Finn had seen a lot of unpleasant stuff in his life.
On the battlefields of Operation Bulldog, he had witnessed firsthand the horrors of war, and sometimes the worst humanity could inflict on itself. Panicked soldiers firing on innocents, civilians fighting one another over scarce supplies of food and water, rich merchants taking advantage of desperate families.
But what happened on Garstedt would be forever etched in his memory.
His mech company had filed into the mechbay of the Smoke Jaguar firebase, accompanied by several APCs carrying infantry and other support personnel, notably DCMS troopers and ISF agents.
The mech bay looked like an abattoir. Corpses were strewn all over, puddles of blood, and in the middle of it was a smirking Pence Lamongue, his palms faced upwards and empty, showing that he was not a threat.
Finn had been so tempted to shoot him right there and then, but the DCMS liaison assured him that Pence had switched sides and was now under their protection.
Clanners do not switch sides until after a defeat, and even then preferred to prove their loyalty as bondsmen first. Finn knew this. For a clanner to switch before a battle is decided, something was very wrong.
He climbed down from his Rifleman, the infantry already respectfully lining up the bodies for identification with handheld cameras before placing them in body bags with tags. A number of the bodies wore the daggerstar on their uniforms that marked them as Mechwarriors. Others were support personnel. From the exit wounds on their bodies, some had been shot from the back. Many more had been cut down by prepared explosives and minefields.
It was almost impossible to defend against a trap set from within.
Most importantly, Finn did not see Star Captain Avryl Showers’ body. From what the DCMS liaison told him, she was Pence’s priority target.
He gave Pence a glowering look of menace. “You betrayed your comrades, and even killed your own commander.”
Pence shrugged nonchalantly, as though it was just an ordinary day for him, “What can I say? We were outnumbered, there was likely no way out, and the offer was too good. I do not want to die, there are still a lot of things left in life to enjoy.”
Finn gritted his teeth, then walked off to look through the base.
“If you are looking for Star Captain Showers, what is left of her is in the watch station.” Pence called out behind him. “You must be glad I killed her for you, Captain Finn.”
Glad? Finn did not think so.
It took a while, but the firebase layout was plastered on some corners, so he easily figured it out.
I have to see for myself, he told himself as he walked to the watch station, dread pooling in his stomach.
Then he found her.
Star Captain Avryl Showers was slumped over a console, one hand just below the button that would have alerted the firebase, a bloody hole in her back surrounded by the seared fabric of her uniform. Obviously, she succeeded, because they knew a significant portion of the Jaguar’s Mists had still managed to escape. There was no blood except for some around her mouth. Pence had used a laser weapon to kill her, cauterizing the open wounds.
Her light brown eyes were still open, and Finn felt conflicted. She was an enemy mechwarrior, but she was skilled and honorable, in many ways the epitome of what a mechwarrior should be. She did not deserve to die like this, betrayed by a shot in the back.
He sighed, and drew one hand over her face to close her eyes. She looked so peaceful in death, so different from before, when her face and eyes were alight with the exhilaration of battle, an intoxicating presence that drew in both allies and enemies alike, which made the DCMS nickname her ‘Black Lotus’.
You couldn’t keep your promise, he thought in regret. She had promised him a one-on-one duel, to finally prove who was the better mechwarrior.
It would never happen now.
He gently lifted her body, and carried it out to the mech bay, where they would officially record her death. Then they would follow the customs of the clans and cremate their bodies.
To his disgust, the Draconis Combine’s Internal Security Force (ISF) rewarded Pence with a fortune. When he asked about it, the DCMS liaison told him that paying off a traitor was still a lot more cost effective than trying to take down the Jaguar’s Mists in battle, particularly with Avryl Showers in command. That was how much they feared and respected her.
Then to further his disgust, instead of killing him to shut him up, as they often did, the ISF foisted Pence off to the Lyran Intelligence Corps (LIC), and the next thing Finn knew was that Pence suddenly turned up on Inman, armed with a new name, a new history as a former Lyran Alliance Armed Forces officer who fought the clans, and still holding onto his own clan-spec Banshee, along with an expensive gift for Count Haynes. That, along with a quick demonstration of his skills in a mech, was more than enough to get him hired by the Count, along with a knighthood that enfeoffed him within the aristocracy.
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Banshee Assault 'Mech
Pence Lamongue may be a piece of canister-born scum, but like all clan bloodname holders, he was a gifted mechwarrior.
Finn had wanted to reveal the origins of ‘Spencer Larouche’, but strict directives from the Star League ordered him to never reveal Pence’s identity nor his betrayal. So all Finn could do was seethe quietly, hoping that one day the man would slip up and get into trouble.
If Pence had shown just the tiniest bit of remorse over his betrayal of his clan and his comrades, Finn would not have held so much animosity against him. He knew that circumstances sometimes drove people to do things they did not want. In fact, Task Force Serpent was only possible because of Trent’s betrayal, but Finn had heard enough over the rumour mill that Trent had very good reasons for his actions.
Basically, Trent did not do it for money. He did it for honor, for the ideal of a clan that had lost its way. He asked only for a worthy cause to fight for, and warriors to command in battle. Simple needs for a simple warrior.
In contrast, Pence simply showed no regret for what he had done, and reveled in his ill-gotten gains. Finn knew that when not on duty, Pence would live it up in his own mansion, indulging in excesses and other extravagant displays of wealth, with Renard often in attendance and participating with glee. Absolutely revolting.
Finn could not even unravel his own feelings towards Avryl. Was it sympathy, pity, or exasperation at her foolishness and naivete? Or was it even mourning?
Avryl fought for her clan and her beliefs, but was betrayed by her own subordinate. Sometimes, she would even appear in his nightmares, tormenting him with the unfulfilled promise between them.
“One day, we will face each other in a Circle of Equals, and prove once and for all who is the better mechwarrior. This I swear to you.” It was the last thing she had said to Finn, on Yamarovka, after she accepted his offer of hegira.
Finn, lost in his thoughts, was brought back to the present when his assistant Eric woke him from his siesta and gave him the latest news. Upon hearing it, Finn grew concerned.
“Lady Kalinska went to the palatial manor in the morning?”
Oh, no. Did the Count find out what she did yesterday? Despite his appearance as a genial old man, Count Haynes had a hidden vindictive side. If he felt offended, she would still be punished.
Why did she have to kick Renard there? he lamented. He decided to go to the palatial manor and find an opportunity to talk to Count Haynes. He intended to keep his promise to take care of any loose ends.
This time, Finn was going to be proactive. Renard was too licentious, and he would tell Count Haynes what Anastasia had revealed to him. Then the Count wouldn’t be too angry.
He wondered how Anastasia would react if he helped her this time.
This I swear to you. Would she ever say that to him? Then Finn realized he was remembering Avryl, not Anastasia, and shook his head.
Why was Avryl still tormenting him? To make matters worse, his thoughts kept mixing Anastasia and Avryl up, even though they were two completely different people. But the way Anastasia talked to him…
Feels like today is an unlucky day, he thought to himself.
He thought of glittering blue eyes the color of sapphires and ebony-black hair. The laughter of delight that hung in the air amidst the lights of the chandeliers as they danced came to mind.
Finn shook his head to dislodge the distracting thoughts. He was about to leave when news came of Anastasia’s collapse.
23rd February, 3061
1000 hrs (0200 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)
It was raining.
Anastasia blinked her eyes slowly and looked out the window. It was early in the current cycle, with several hours left to go til dawn. The sky was black, with the clouds blocking even the stars from sight.
The sound of rain filled the quiet room. She knew that she was in her own room, not at the palatial manor.
Luckily, she was returned to the Kalinski estate after creating such a commotion.
Anastasia groaned. She still had a sore pain in the back of her neck from being hit. Sitting on her bed, leaning back, she listened to the sound of the rain.
She recalled what she saw before she fainted.
On the viewscreen, Pence had worn a red uniform and that familiar disgusting smirk.
“Spencer Larouche.” Anastasia muttered his name. She had to admit, it was pretty smart of him to use a fake name that sounded so similar to his real one. But to give up the Lamongue Bloodname he had earned with so much blood and pain, just like that?
A small chuckle leaked out, then she twisted her lips up and burst into laughter. It was funny, so funny that she felt mad. She was still so hung up on the clans when he had obviously abandoned everything from them to build a new life for himself. She did not know how or why he betrayed her and the clans, but the very fact he did meant that she never even knew him at all.
And he was the warrior the Clan Watch had selected to ensure the Wardens in her unit remained loyal?
What a hilarious joke. In the end, he was the traitor, not the Wardens.
She tried to get out of bed, but she fell to the floor because her legs were so weak. But she continued to laugh, amused by the cruel joke the universe played on her.
It was not something she had even thought about, since the chances of finding him amongst the vast trillions of people in the entire human sphere were slimmer than finding survivors of the clan. But out of all the worlds populated by humanity, Pence had to turn up on the very same one she was somehow resurrected in?
Oh yes, she certainly wanted him dead.
She thought back to his words to her just before she died. He somehow made a deal with the Inner Sphere, probably through their intelligence agencies. Was it for money? It certainly was not for honour.
So Pence had given up everything he once had as a clan warrior and exchanged those for being a Captain of some pathetic household guards in some shithole of an Outback world.
She had tried to live as Anastasia, but she realized she just passively adapted to her circumstances without taking any real initiative of her own. She had some vague thoughts of finding survivors of her clan, specifically the members of the Jaguar’s Mists, but did nothing to advance that objective.
But now…
Clarity of purpose slowly dawned on her. She had been too complacent. Seeing Pence made her realize who she was and the death she had suffered.
Anastasia opened her room door and stepped out into the quiet, dimly lit hallway.
No one stopped her at this time since even the servants were still asleep. She had lost strength again, but she knew what she needed to do.
He killed her, so she will kill him. That was the only fitting surkairede for him.
“…Pence… Pence…” She kept muttering his name as she prowled the empty corridors of the estate mansion. The urge to kill him was overpowering, the rage in her bubbling up uncontrollably.
She wandered the hallways of the quiet mansion until she finally got to where she had seen a ceremonial sword that she had kept an eye on. As she stretched and reached out to grab the sword and lifted it, her body staggered at its sheer weight.
Anastasia gritted her teeth, grabbed it, and walked back down the hallway and out the front door.
Heavy rain hammered down in the dark night. She did not even care that she was only wearing a thin nightgown, almost immediately drenched in the rain, while she cradled the sword against her chest, her wet hair plastered around her face and body.
She began to walk across the grass field, not even caring that she was barefoot. The rain-soaked soil splattered over her bare white feet, but she did not care either.
Step by step, she moved forward, driven by a fury within that could not be quenched by the rain. When she approached the estate’s front gate, she slipped and fell in the rain-soaked mud.
“Ooof!”
Stravag. She cursed. When she was Avryl, she rarely slipped and fell in the mud.
Even though it was only a slight fall onto the soft mud, her body was winded by the impact, and it took her long moments to catch her breath back before she could get back up again. To make matters worse, her long, wet hair blocked her view.
She tried to use the sword as support to stand up, but the scabbard did not find enough purchase into the soft soil, and she fell again with a curse.
Fallen, she put her arms on the ground and levered her body up. Then her gaze fell upon her trembling arm. The pale skin and frail wrists. She looked at her own weak, fragile body. Even though she had just been in the rain for barely more than a minute, she had begun trembling. She was startled by her sudden realization and slowly shook her head.
No, I am not like this. This… this… this is not my body! This is not my body! She bit her lip and shook her head desperately.
She tilted her head back and looked up at the black sky, still pouring rain down. With a steamy white sigh, she gritted her teeth. She then got her feet under her to get up from the ground again as if trying to deny what she had just realized.
She broke down the process into discrete steps, similar to how the Kit Masters used to admonish them on how to get their mechs upright, and actually found that she could get up surprisingly quickly this time.
Once on her feet, she tried to draw her sword with trembling hands, but the sword could not be pulled out of its sheath. She tried to pull it out repeatedly, but only the tiniest part of the blade became visible. It was just a ceremonial sword, made with cheap steel, and poorly maintained over the years. Without regular application of oil, it simply rusted, and the sword became stuck in the scabbard.
Anastasia cursed yet again. No matter what she tried, it was useless. It seemed as though the whole sequence of events was designed specially to drive in the point that she was essentially helpless.
She dropped the sword and knelt down, covering her face with her hands. She had already known her body was weak, but she thought if she could train hard and regain her strength, she would be able to regain some sense of normalcy.
She had been too naive and complacent. She had not thought deeply enough. It was only now, at this moment, that she realized the stark differences between her past body and this one. Avryl was the product of generations of selective breeding to produce the finest warriors, her body capable of split-second reactions and brimming with physical potential. Anastasia was merely a freeborn noblewoman, soft and gentle. Beautiful, yes, but nothing beyond that.
Her combat skills were the result of years of brutal training, but not that of Anastasia, the epitome of a lady brought up only to display the prestige of her House.
Avryl Showers was dead, killed by Pence Lamongue. She would never return to the world of the living. Even though her spirit, her soul was still alive in Anastasia’s body, she was not Avryl anymore.
Death was final. She was a fool to think that she could eventually recover her strength and be a Mechwarrior again.
She still had not fully processed her own death. But now, it was clear to her what she had lost – her right to live as Avryl, the honor earned through serving her clan, and even the camaraderie of her closest warriors.
Avryl's memories, not Anastasia's, remained so vividly in her mind. Avryl's fierce life and her feelings of betrayal burn so clearly, yet she was no longer Avryl.
Who was she then? Was she Anastasia, or was she merely Avryl wearing Anastasia's face as a mask?
For the first time in a very long while, she let her tears flow. The rain continued to pour, a chill spreading all over Anastasia's body. Without realizing it, she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Rason Estate
24th February, 3061
2300 hrs (1100 hrs on local 28 hr cycle)
Upon reading the report, Finn frowned. His aide, Eric, saw his lord’s expression change and closed his mouth. This meant that Finn was uncomfortable.
“Unbelievable,” Finn muttered, sitting and leaning on the back of his chair as he looked out his window.
It was raining outside. He felt relaxed, but he tapped his desk with a finger. The impatient ticking sound spread out into the quiet office.
“So, Lady Kalinska has gone crazy?”
“It’s not that she is crazy. She had a breakdown." Eric felt compelled to point out.
“What’s the difference?” he said, sighing.
“Baron Kalinski is trying to keep it quiet, but rumors still tend to leak.”
“Yeah, she was crying in the rain in her nightgown in the wee hours barefoot with a sword out in the garden. Anybody would think that she had finally gone crazy.”
At this point, Eric thought Finn would express his anger about his engagement to Anastasia Kalinska. Being engaged to a madwoman would make him a huge laughing stock despite being the Viscount of Delacambre.
Instead, Finn grumbled, “How is Baron Kalinski managing his servants? They didn’t even know their sick mistress went out and now they can't even control their mouths. Unacceptable."
As Eric had expected, Finn was annoyed, but the reason behind his annoyance was surprising. It seemed Finn was angrier at the servants who leaked the information.
“Does she have to go crazy every few days?”
Eric knew Finn was referring to Anastasia Kalinska. He gave his superior a pointed look.
Finn glared back. "What?"
Eric gulped, thought he wasn’t paid enough to do all this, but plunged on. “Uhm, you heard that Lady Kalinska had a breakdown, but are you okay?”
“Do I have to reply to that?"
The Viscount’s green eyes held an ominous light. Eric realized he had made a mistake. However, what he noticed was that Finn first griped about the servants who spread the rumours, then complained about Bason Kalinski’s daughter. The priority and sequence of complaints had changed.
“How is Lady Kalinska?”
This was new. Now, instead of complaining about her, Finn was actually asking about her well-being. Eric concluded Finn was now emotionally invested in the relationship.
“She is suffering from a cold. She was always frail, so it's quite serious....”
“It must have been because she was in the rain. Tsk tsk." Finn clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
The Viscount continued, “How far did the rumors spread that she had a breakdown?”
“It shouldn’t have spread yet. It seems that their servants talked about it amongst themselves while buying groceries. The shop they were at just happened to be one of our intel sources.”
“Block the rumors if you can. Downplay it if you can’t.”
Eric nodded numbly.
Finn's feelings for Anastasia were still vague, but Eric had developed a better sense of his lord’s emotions, so he just nodded his head and proceeded to carry out his orders.
Finn sat at his desk and looked out the window blankly. Anastasia had never been quite sane right from the beginning, but what triggered her most recent bout of insanity? What exactly happened in the Haynes manor?
As far as he knew, Renard had been lying low since his humiliation during the Feast of Bounty banquet. He suspected Renard was just indulging his own vices quietly, but that was all. He didn't meet Anastasia that day.
Finn narrowed his eyes. There was one person he could ask.